


Sur Ma Peau

by Robespierre



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Dreams, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-03
Updated: 2014-04-03
Packaged: 2018-01-17 23:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1406125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robespierre/pseuds/Robespierre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur never could have imagined that when he woke one night with a burning pain shooting through his leg, he was about to set off on a journey to find the one person who was made just for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sur Ma Peau

**Author's Note:**

> This story would not exist without the amazingly inspiring art of the very talented **mssdare**. The art is embedded in the fic, but please visit the masterpost on [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1410700) or [LJ](http://mssdare.livejournal.com/5235.html) to let **mssdare** know just how fantastic all of the pieces are. 
> 
> The title and opening quote are from 1789: Les Amants de la Bastille. 
> 
> As always, thanks to Karine for the beta. I have made changes since, so any remaining errors are my own.

 

_Sur ma peau  
_ _J’ai signé mes promesses_

 

The small mark had been there for as long as Arthur could remember – just an ordinary birthmark, black against the pale white skin of his leg. Until today, he had never thought it could be anything out of the ordinary.

Three days earlier, he had been jerked from sleep in the early morning, feeling as though someone was holding a red-hot poker to his inner thigh. The pain was so intense that his body wasn’t sure how to react. He wanted nothing more than to curl into a ball and whimper, but he knew that he had to determine the source of the pain.

He clawed open the fastening to his sleep trousers and yanked them down his legs. The searing pain was mounting, and it was all he could do to just keep his leg straight enough to examine it. He looked down, expecting to see a rash or weal spreading across his skin, but saw nothing. His skin was unmarked, save for his birthmark.

He had begun to panic, wondering if anyone would be near enough to hear him so early in the morning. He had just opened his mouth to scream for help when the pain simply _vanished_. As quickly as it had come, it was gone, leaving Arthur gasping for breath, naked, and confused.

He hadn’t been able to fall back to sleep after that, so he dressed, lit some candles, and began to study the most recent peace agreement that his father had negotiated. By daybreak, he was so absorbed in his work that he had completely forgotten his mysterious nighttime pain.  

Unfortunately, that night brought the same searing pain. After two more evenings of waking and feeling as though his flesh was being peeled from his body, Arthur knew that he had to consult Gaius. 

 

* * *

 

Arthur thought that Gaius would be able to provide him with a simple explanation and possibly some sort of salve, all the while assuring him that there was nothing to worry about. However, after describing all of his symptoms and showing Gaius the now faintly red skin of his thigh and slightly larger than normal birthmark, Arthur was shocked to see Gaius practically sprint from the room, calling, “Wait here!”

Arthur spent nearly ten minutes examining bottles on Gaius’ shelves and reading the titles of the many tomes on the physician’s desk before Gaius returned, followed closely by Uther. Both men were practically running up the stairs.    

“Father?” Arthur asked, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Uther told him, a wide smile on his normally stoic face. “In fact, this is excellent news! I have been waiting for this day!”

“I’m sorry – what? You’ve been waiting for the day that you found out my leg hurts at night?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Uther was practically vibrating with excitement. Arthur had never before seen his father this animated about anything. “Show me your leg, please.”

Obedient as ever to his father, Arthur removed his trousers and bared his thigh. Uther reached out and swiped his finger against the dark spot. “This is it,” he breathed.

“What? Father, what is going on here?” Arthur demanded, out of patience.

His father’s only response was to begin removing his own shirt.

“Father! Gaius! Someone please tell me what is happening here!”

Neither man spoke until Uther had undone all of the laces and pulled the shirt off over his head.

“Arthur,” he said, turning to face away from him, “look.”

It seemed impossible to think that Arthur had never before seen his father’s back, but he realized at that moment that it was true. Uther must have been so careful to keep his skin hidden, because had Arthur seen it, he never would have forgotten.

Uther’s back was covered in what looked like swirling lines of dark ink. The design’s lines seemed to branch out from a central circle located between Uther’s shoulder blades. Arthur stepped closer, fascinated by the intricate design that he had never known marked his father’s body.

Upon closer inspection, he realized that the lines were not ink, but seemed to be the same color and texture as the mark on his own thigh. As though his hands had a mind of their own, he found himself gently stroking the design, following the lines with the tips of his fingers.

“Father, what is this?”

Uther turned again to face him, then said, “Arthur, you may want to sit down for this.” He grinned as he reached for his shirt. “And put your trousers back on, please.”

Shocked into silence at his father’s lightheartedness, Arthur did as he was told and sat on the small stool in front of Gaius’ workbench. Uther, now fully dressed, knelt in front of him.

The position was making Arthur very uncomfortable. _He_ was the one who should be kneeling before his king. What was going on?

When he spoke, Uther’s voice was gentle. “Arthur, the mark on your leg proves that you are a rightful king of Camelot. Only those chosen to rule develop these marks. In the coming days, it will grow and change shape. The design of yours will be different from mine, as mine was different from my own father’s, but they all prove that the Pendragons are the true rulers of this land.”

Uther paused, as if waiting for Arthur to ask a question. Arthur was so taken aback by the idea that there existed _proof_ that he was destined to be king that he couldn’t speak. For a moment, he just sat, imagining himself as king of Camelot, brokering peace and ensuring prosperity throughout the kingdom.  

“Every true king,” Uther continued, “bears a mark. But it is more than just lines on skin, Arthur.”

The sudden seriousness in Uther’s tone snapped Arthur out of his reverie.

“Only a few people know of this, and I must ask that you not share it with anyone else.”

Arthur couldn’t do anything but nod, his mind spinning as he tried to piece together the threads of the conversation. What was his father trying to tell him?

“Arthur, the mark on your leg will help you to identify your soulmate.”

He couldn’t help but let out a burst of laughter. Soulmates. He had been forced to pay polite attention to far too many princesses claiming that they could be his soulmate. The entire notion was laughable. The idea that two people could be destined to be together, like two halves of one whole, was ridiculous.

“Son, this is no joke,” Uther told him, taking both of Arthur’s hands in his. “For centuries, Pendragon men have found our perfect matches – men and women who have stood by our sides, loving us and helping us rule over Camelot. Arthur – ”

Uther paused for so long that Arthur was forced to look down and meet his father’s eyes.

“Arthur, the person whose mark matches yours will be the greatest love of your life. You will be so uniquely suited for each other that it will seem as though you were created for no other purpose than to love each other. Your mother…I can’t even begin to explain how _right_ the world seemed when we found each other. I wish we could have had more time together, but what we had was perfect.”

Gaius sniffled as though he was trying to hold back tears. Arthur couldn’t believe it. Yes, he had always heard tales of just how in love his parents had been, but the two of them had just been a good match for each other. There was no divine intervention. They had not been _made_ for each other.

But Uther had no reason to lie to him. Could he be telling the truth? Was there, at this very moment, someone out there waiting for him? Someone whom he would marry and build a life with? Someone to rule beside him?

“I’ve been waiting for the day that your mark began to develop. I am getting older, and I think that you are ready to step up and claim the throne. However…” he trailed off.

Gaius took over. “Arthur, the councilors and elders of the kingdom are the only people who can proclaim you king. And they will only do so if you have your soulmate at your side. You must find him or her and go through a bonding ceremony before you can become the next king of Camelot.”

He pressed a small scroll into Arthur’s hands.

“Finding your soulmate can be difficult. You will need to visit a physician who specializes in such matters. On that scroll is everything else you need to know. You should leave immediately.”

Arthur gave a jerky nod before turning back to his father. Uther said nothing, but reached up to wrap his arms around his son. “I am so proud of you,” he told Arthur. “Good luck.” 

 

* * *

 

It took nearly three full days of travel to reach the tiny, rundown cottage marked on Gaius’ map. At first, Arthur had been nervous to travel alone, but his father had assured him that the path he would be traveling was so secret that no one but the kings of Camelot and their advisors knew of it.

The journey had not been difficult, but Arthur was exhausted, having been unable to sleep for more than a few hours at a time, so anxious was he to meet the man who would help him find his soulmate.

Following Gaius’ instructions, Arthur rapped ten times on the physician’s door before stepping inside. In the building’s dim light, Arthur could just barely see a man with long white hair and an even longer beard, seated at a small table. His face was hidden by the shadow cast by the hood of the cloak he was wearing.

Gaius’ note had warned him over and over again that he was not to speak to this mysterious physician under any circumstance, so when the man asked, “You are Arthur Pendragon?”, Arthur simply nodded.

“Good. Sit,” he said, gesturing toward a cluster of strange-looking chairs in the center of the room. Each chair had wheels and gears protruding from its back. Arthur couldn’t even guess as to their purpose, but he sat, ready to do whatever it took. He thought back to the proud gleam in his father’s eyes as Uther had sent him off to find his soulmate. He couldn’t believe it – _he_ , Arthur Pendragon, was taking the final step necessary to become ruler of Camelot.

“Now,” the physician’s voice broke through Arthur’s reverie, “you will do exactly as I say. I will give you a cup of tea, and you will drink all of it. Then you will fall asleep. In your dreams, you will see the faces of those who could possibly be destined for you, as well as some clue as to where those individuals live. When you wake, it is your task to find these people and bring them here. You will drink together, and then you will find the one person who is meant to be with you.”

He stood and brought a small cup of tea to Arthur. The hood still shielded most of his face from view, but Arthur glimpsed pale skin and a flash of white teeth.

“Drink, Arthur,” the physician urged.

The tea was like nothing he had ever tasted before. Well, no – it tasted familiar, but he had never tasted anything in this combination before. The tea tasted of all of Arthur’s favorite things: roasted boar, sweet apple, and spiced mead.

The drink’s effect was instantaneous. No sooner had Arthur swallowed the last drop when he felt his eyes close and the cup fall from his hand, but he didn’t hear the crash of the earthenware mug hitting the ground. Instead, he heard a mechanical grinding and felt the back of his chair recline. His final thought as he slipped into unconsciousness was that at least now he knew why the chairs were so strangely shaped. 

 

* * *

 

He was walking through the streets of Camelot, but Arthur still knew that he was in a dream. It was as though the portion of the city in which he moved was the only section that truly existed. The streets and homes formed from nothingness around him as the area he had just left dissolved behind him.

Arthur was suddenly grabbed from behind, spun around, and pulled into a hug. All that Arthur could see of his attacker (for lack of a better term) was that the person was wearing an unremarkable white shirt and brown trousers. There was no indication as to whether this person was a man or a woman.

“Let me go! Who are you?” Arthur demanded.

The mysterious figure released him immediately, and Arthur noticed the most interesting portion of the outfit: a leather mask completely covering the person’s face.

“Well? Show yourself!”

With gloved hands, Arthur’s stranger slowly pulled the mask away.

“Hello, Arthur,” said Gwaine.

It wasn’t the Gwaine that Arthur knew, though. It was as though Gwaine’s facial features were superimposed over a blank form, almost like the dummy that the court tailor used to create their finest clothing. Instead of seeing his knight’s easy smile, the _thing_ that was Gwaine showed no emotion at all.

“I would be happy to be with you,” it said.

Before Arthur could respond, the figure’s brown eyes flashed a bright blue, and then it disappeared.

He continued walking toward this false Camelot’s castle, thinking hard. Gwaine? Of all the people he knew, Gwaine seemed the least likely to want to become co-ruler of the kingdom. And Gwaine had certainly never expressed any romantic interest in him.

This mark on his skin was changing his life; was it sparking changes in others as well? Could the emergence of Arthur’s birthright cause someone completely uninterested in Arthur to develop feelings for him?

He had so many questions about how this soulmate-finding process worked, but he knew that he would have to wait to ask Gaius or his father. He wouldn’t jeopardize the process by disobeying instructions and questioning the physician.

Arthur caught a glimpse of something streaking through the shadows in his peripheral vision. As he paused to look at into the stables – everything seemed so real! – his hand was seized by another plainly-dressed, masked individual.

“And who are you?” he asked. “Do I know you?”

“Of course you do.”

“Gwen?”

The figure removed its mask, revealing Gwen’s sweet face. As with Gwaine, though, it was simply _wrong_ to see her so unanimated.

“I would be happy to be your queen,” she said, squeezing his hand.

Just as Gwaine had, Gwen’s eyes blinked from brown to blue just before she disappeared.

As Arthur came closer and closer to the castle, he again noticed the dark shape moving at the edges of his vision. He could tell that it was a man, but nothing else. It was moving frenetically back and forth, as though it were attempting to escape from Arthur’s dream but finding that it was trapped.

“Arthur!”

He turned to see Leon running toward him. Unlike the others, Leon was not wearing a mask, and he appeared much more lifelike than Gwaine and Gwen had. His curly hair was bouncing against his forehead as he ran, and a huge grin split his face. Everything seemed so much more realistic; the only difference between his Leon and this imposter was the eye color – though still blue, this blue had a depth to it that Leon’s light eyes did not have.

The false Leon fell to his knees in front of Arthur.

“I would be honored to rule with you.”

The world around them dissolved, until the last thing that Arthur could see was the shadowy figure streaking around the edges of the dream. It stopped suddenly, took a step toward Arthur, and let out a scream of pure rage. 

 

* * *

 

The next thing Arthur knew, he was blinking back to consciousness in the physician’s chair. His head throbbed, but he barely noticed it in comparison to the unbelievable burning in his thigh. It was so much worse than what he had experienced for the first time nearly a week ago. Those initial pains had been focused on a tiny area of his skin. Now, he felt as though someone was holding a torch to every part of his thigh.

He gritted his teeth against the pain, but couldn’t stop the small whimpers that seemed determined to crawl from his throat.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” said the physician, sounding completely bored. “Your mark is developing now that you have been in the presence of your soulmate. Goodbye,” he said as he tightened his cloak around his neck and stepped out the front door.

The second he was alone, Arthur undid his belt and pushed down his trousers to see the source of his excruciating pain. What he saw took his breath away.

What had just that morning been a small, irregularly-shaped dark mark was now a series of lines stretching out to encircle his thigh. As he watched, the lines began to thicken and curve, forming a pattern like links in a chain.  

He touched his new marks, hesitantly, and sighed when it appeared to ease the pain. 

 

* * *

 

It took nearly a month to convince Gwaine, Gwen, and Leon to visit the physician with him. Gaius had told Arthur that he was not to tell any of them why he needed them to accompany him on a week-long trek through the kingdom. Only a very few people knew that soulmates existed, and it was Arthur’s duty to keep the information secret from everyone else.

It didn’t sit well with Arthur. He wanted to come clean to his friends, to explain what was happening to him. If he was going to spend a lifetime with one of them, he would like that person to be fully aware of the importance of this trip.

But more than anything, he wanted to tell them so that he wouldn’t feel so terribly alone. For the last few weeks, his body had been changing in spectacular ways, and his life was forever going to be changed, so it frustrated him to be forced to act as though they were simply going on a picnic.

The journey was actually enjoyable. They did not need to march at a group of knights’ steady pace, so they were able to take frequent breaks to eat, splash around in small streams, and laze on their backs in the sunlight. If it hadn’t been for the constant low-level sense of anxiousness that Arthur just couldn’t shake, it would have been one of the best trips of his life.

Their frequent stops and slower pace meant that the group reached the physician’s cottage at mid-morning on the fourth day of their trip. Arthur told his friends that they were going to visit a family friend (hating the need to lie all the while), and, as before, knocked ten times before stepping inside.

The old physician was again sitting in the shadows, his cloak’s hood large enough to partially cover his face. It didn’t appear as though he was going to get up, and Gwen’s cheery, “Hello! It’s so nice to meet you! My name is Gwen,” was met with silence.

Arthur’s three friends were instantly suspicious.

“Arthur, what’s going on?” asked Gwen.

“Who is this _family friend_?” Leon added.

The three of them had, probably without even realizing it, moved to orient themselves around Arthur: Gwaine and Leon in front of him, protecting him from any danger, and Gwen behind him, relying on him to shield him from harm.

Arthur sighed. How was he going to convince the three of them that not only was there nothing wrong, but that this man was going to provide them with some mysterious-tasting tea?

“Gentlemen,” he addressed his knights, “stand down. There is no problem here.”

He could practically see the effort it took Gwaine and Leon to relax their tensed bodies and turn their backs on the physician to face Arthur.

Arthur gestured to Gwen to stand beside him as he frantically tried to come up with a lie that would appease all of them. He decided to settle for a half-truth instead.

“I know that this is going to sound strange, but we’ve been sent here by my father and his advisors. We’re all going to drink a special tea – it’s okay,” he added, seeing Gwen’s eyes widen, “I’ve had it before. It will put us to sleep, and we will dream.”

He could see that Gwaine wanted to say something, so he hurried on, not pausing long enough to give his friend the opportunity to speak.

“I’ve done that before, too. I had a very vivid dream, and I wasn’t even asleep for an hour. It was fine. Like I said, I realize that this whole situation is strange, but you must to believe me – it is absolutely essential that we do this. For the future of Camelot. You just have to – ”

“Arthur,” Leon interrupted, “it’s all right. I trust you. Just tell me what I need to do.”

He could see that Gwaine and Gwen were not convinced, but he shot Leon a grateful grin nevertheless.

“Come sit here,” he said, pointing to one of the reclining chairs, “and drink one of these,” indicating the three cups of tea sitting on a small table among the chairs.

“They must all drink at the same time!” called the physician from across the room.

“Gwen, Gwaine. Please.” Arthur turned to his friends. “I swear to you, nothing bad will happen,” he said, hoping desperately that he could keep that promise.

It took just a few moments for Gwen to cast one look at Leon and sigh out an “All right.”

Gwaine wasn’t going to give in. Arthur could tell, just by the determined set of his shoulders and jaw. Arthur didn’t want to force him into anything, but the physician had said that all three of them needed to drink at the same time. What if it wouldn’t work without Gwaine? Would Arthur be kept from finding his soulmate?

“Gwaine,” Leon said softly, “come on. Arthur wouldn’t ask us to do this if it wasn’t important.”

The two of them held a silent conversation, all raised eyebrows and tilted heads that spoke of how much time the knights had spent in each other’s company. Gwaine finally nodded and moved to sit in one of the chairs. “Let’s go, then,” he demanded, smirking as though it had been his idea the whole time.

Arthur distributed the cups of tea, thanking each of his friends for doing this for him.

“Now drink!” cried the physician, sounding impatient.

It took just seconds for sleep to overtake each of them, and Arthur watched in amazement as the tiny lines around Leon’s eyes, caused by too much time in the sun, relaxed along with the rest of his body.

He must have been focused on Leon more than he thought, because the physician was suddenly behind him, even though he had not heard him move. He watched in silence as the physician moved each of his friends’ chairs to a reclining position.

“Are you ready?” the physician snapped at Arthur, sounding so angry that Arthur was afraid he had done something wrong.

He remembered Gaius’ instructions and only nodded before moving over to take his own chair.

The physician did not approach him, and he spoke without lifting his head. 

“In your dream, you will find each of your friends, and your bond will be tested. You may feel free to say whatever you like to them – they will not remember anything of the dream after they wake. You and your match will sleep longer than the others. They will be escorted back to Camelot by my apprentice. He is entirely trustworthy, I assure you. Good luck.”

That said, he shoved another cup at Arthur.

The tea tasted even better than he remembered.

 

* * *

 

This time, the dream was more structured. Arthur found himself in a tavern completely full of people. Everything felt real, from the smell of the spilled ale to the sound of a barmaid’s song to the heat of the bodies around him. He had never before set foot in this place, but it seemed familiar somehow.

Of course, he realized as the crowd around the bar parted and he saw Gwaine slumped over the bar, snoring. This was a place that Gwaine knew.

“Hello, Gwaine,” he said, leaning in to touch the sleeping man’s shoulder.

A barmaid caught his eye and shrugged. “Sorry, sir, but we haven’t been able to get him to move for hours. He says he just wants to sleep.” She fluttered her eyelashes at him and smiled sweetly. “Of course, there’s not been anybody big and strong like you here to take care of him for us.”

Arthur knew where this was heading and pulled a few coins from his pocket. “We’ll take a room.”

“Thank you, sir,” she simpered. “Top of the stairs on the left.”

He stooped to pull Gwaine’s arm over his shoulder. “Come on, Gwaine,” he grunted as he attempted to heave his friend from his stool, “we’re going upstairs now.”

“Don’t wanna,” Gwaine slurred, but he allowed Arthur to propel him toward the stairs. It was slow going, but Arthur managed to manhandle him up the steps and into the room. He deposited him on the narrow bed and opened a window, hoping that the fresh air would help clear Gwaine’s head.

Unfortunately, Gwaine curled into a ball on top of the blanket and began to snore.

“Gwaine, wake up,” Arthur said, shaking him none too gently. He was quickly losing his patience. “We need to talk. Now.”

“Later, Perce,” Gwaine said, batting Arthur’s hand away. “Wanna sleep.”

“I’m not Percy, you dolt,” he snapped, “I’m Athur. Wake up right now.”

“Oh, be _quiet_ ,” Gwaine giggled. “We don’t want Arthur to hear us.”

Completely frustrated, Arthur again reached for Gwaine’s shoulder, only to stop instantly as he saw that the hand reaching out did not belong to him. It was significantly larger than his, and the muscles in the forearm stood out more than his ever had. He ran a hand across his chest, exploring, and discovered that every part of him seemed to be so much _bigger_ than it should have been. He looked around wildly and dashed back to the room’s small window. When he had pulled it closed again, he was just barely able to see his reflection in the glass.

He didn’t need a clearer image, though – it was immediately obvious that he was Percival.

 _Talk to him_.

The voice wasn’t quiet, but Arthur somehow instantly knew that it came from inside his own head.

_This is the test. Talk to him._

“Come on, Perce, lie down with me,” Gwaine whined.

This was the test? What was he supposed to do? Arthur certainly hadn’t thought that he would be the one proctoring these tests, and he was feeling profoundly lost.

Another plaintive whine from Gwaine had Arthur climbing onto the bed with him. He lay down behind Gwaine, his chest pressed tightly against Gwaine’s back in this tiny bed. Gwaine surprised him by pulling Arthur’s arm tightly against his chest.  

“So, about Arthur…” he tried, still having no idea what he was supposed to be doing here.

Gwaine surprised him further by turning in the circle of Arthur’s arm so that they were face to face, Arthur’s arm still draped across his back.

“I’m not going to say this again,” Gwain told him, suddenly sounding wide awake and sober. “Arthur is a good man, and he’s my friend. I would let him lead me into battle any day. And I won’t deny that he’s handsome, but there is one thing that he _isn’t_ – he’s not you.”

Gwaine leaned in until his face was just inches from Arthur’s. “You know that you’re the only one for me, Perce.”

Just as Gwaine was about to kiss a completely stunned Arthur, the dream faded around them. Arthur heard laughter as he waited in darkness for the next test to begin.

 

* * *

 

The dark fog lifted, and Arthur found himself seated at a small table in what appeared to be Gwen’s home.  Gwen was sitting across from him, and she was staring confusedly at the third person in the room: the physician. 

“Let’s play a game,” he suggested. 

Arthur wasn’t sure whether or not he was allowed to speak to the physician within the dream, so he decided to err on the side of caution and send Gwen what he hoped was a reassuring smile. 

“Guinevere, I need you to imagine a perfect day.  What would you do?  Where would you go?  Think about it.  Focus all of your thoughts on it.”

Arthur watched as Gwen closed her eyes, her nose wrinkled slightly in concentration.

“Now you do the same, Arthur.” 

Arthur thought about it for a few seconds.  What would he do on a day with no responsibilities?  Who would he spend his time with?

“Keep your eyes closed, and join hands.”

Arthur reached out blindly until he found Gwen’s hands and clasped them in his. 

Instantly, they were transported to a huge forest clearing.  Gwen and Arthur stood, still hand in hand, as they were surrounded by their friends.  A lavish picnic was set out on blankets near a slow-moving stream.  Gwaine, Leon, and Lance were playing around in the water, threatening to splash Morgana and Elyan.  Uther and Gaius were sitting under a nearby tree, loudly placing wagers on how Morgana would react if the men actually managed to make good on their threats. 

Some knights were mock-jousting, playing card games, and singing.  A group of the castle’s serving women were teaching the rest of the men a complicated line dance. 

Laughter and shouts rang out through the clearing.  Arthur squeezed Gwen’s hand, so excited to discover that her idea of happiness was similar to his own. 

With a _snap_ , they were jerked back to Gwen’s home. 

“Next,” said the physician, “I want you to imagine your life ten years from now.”

This was easy.  Arthur closed his eyes, and without being told, reached out for Gwen’s hands.

He saw himself in Uther’s chambers (now his, he supposed), asking his valet for advice as to his wardrobe for an important feast.  As he watched, Gwen passed by the door to his room, carrying a baby on her hip.  Two slightly older children toddled behind her.  All three children had Gwen’s beautiful skin tone and dark curls. 

One of the children, a soft-spoken girl, called out to him.  “Arthur!”

Arthur saw himself dismiss his valet and call Gwen and the children into the room, but before he could see what happened next, he was again returned to the table in Gwen’s home. 

The old physician was seated on the small bench at the far end of the table. 

“One last thing,” he said, and was silent for so long that Gwen hesitantly asked, “What should I be thinking about?” 

The physician seemed to be lost in thought as he stared at the tabletop.  He tapped his fingers a few times against the scarred wood and sighed deeply before finally grinning, his smile just barely visible through his long facial hair. 

He stood and walked over to stand behind Gwen and whisper in her ear.  She nodded, closed her eyes, and reached out for Arthur’s hands. 

Arthur shot a questioning look at the physician, but he just nodded his head toward Gwen’s outstretched hands.  Suddenly feeling a little worried, Arthur took a deep breath and took Gwen’s hands in his. 

Suddenly, Arthur was standing in the hallway of the castle, near his own chambers.  He could hear voices issuing from a room a few doors down, so he set off in search of the speakers. 

The door was slightly ajar, so Arthur pushed it open and entered the room quietly.  He was unsurprised to see Gwen’s curly hair, but the person she was speaking with was blocked from his view by the draperies surrounding the bed. 

He crept closer, unsure exactly why he felt the need to be so quiet. 

“But what will Arthur think?” 

He recognized the voice – it was his sister, Morgana.

“It doesn’t matter, Morgana,” Gwen said earnestly, just as Arthur rounded the corner and realized that the reason he hadn’t been able to see Morgana earlier was that her body was pressed so tightly to Gwen’s that she had been invisible from behind. 

 _I told her to picture the one person she could see spending the rest of her life with_ , the physician laughed in Arthur’s head. 

As the world again began to dissolve around him, Arthur dimly heard Gwen continue.  “He’ll understand when I tell him how much I love you.”

 

* * *

 

Arthur awoke with a start.  He was in his strange chair in the physician’s cottage, surrounded by his still-sleeping friends. 

He looked for the physician, but only saw a young man seated on the earthen floor.  He was staring intently into the fire as though searching for secrets in its glow.  On the floor next to him sat the teapot that the physician had used to fill Arthur’s cup on his first visit. 

“Excuse me,” Arthur called out, “are you the apprentice?  I’m not exactly sure what I’m supposed to be doing here.”

The man spat out a “Damn!” and moved so quickly that he was in front of Arthur faster than he would have thought was humanly possible. 

“Sorry, sorry,” the man – the apprentice? – muttered, shoving a hastily-filled cup of tea at him. “You’ll need to drink some more.  Everything is fine.  Don’t worry.”

Feeling not exactly reassured, Arthur drained his cup in just a few swallows and felt the now-familiar drift into dreams. 

  

* * *

 

Arthur waited in the darkness for his third “test” to materialize, feeling confused and uneasy.  Why had he woken earlier than he was meant to?  Was this how all the tests were to be, then?  He couldn’t believe that not only was he not meant to be with either Gwaine or Gwen, but that they both appeared to have found a love of their own.  How had he missed this?  If he was to be king, surely he should have more insight into the lives of his most trusted friends. 

What else were they hiding from him?

But wait – this meant that Leon had to be his soulmate.  The first two tests had ruled out Gwaine and Gwen, so it had to be him. 

Arthur grinned, exhilarated at the thought that in just a few minutes, he would be reunited (in a conscious state) with the man who was destined to rule beside him. 

Leon was a true friend, a highly capable leader, and a brilliant tactician.  The people of Camelot already loved him and would be thrilled to accept him in his new role as partner to the king.  Arthur could picture himself growing old with Leon beside him, their already close friendship blossoming into a love that most people could never even dream of. 

He found himself sitting on Leon’s bed in the knight’s quarters.  As captain of the guard, Leon had a private room that was fairly spacious and, Arthur noted, kept scrupulously clean.

Leon entered and started, obviously surprised to see Arthur invading his private space. 

“What can I do for you, your highness?”

_Tell him the truth._

The physician’s voice sounded nothing like the voice Arthur had come to expect.  It was not the disinterested tone he had used when he explained the dream process to Arthur, and it in no way resembled the faintly mocking tone he had used in Gwen’s test.  Instead, this time he sounded openly hostile, angry at Arthur for reasons Arthur could not understand. 

Obviously irritated at Arthur’s moment of disobedience, the physician hissed another command.  _Do it now.  Tell him the truth._

“Uh, Leon, will you please sit down?  I need to talk to you about something.”

Arthur started at the beginning, explaining the nighttime pain in his leg and what Uther had told him that it meant.  He talked about his first visit to the physician and what he had learned, as well as what was happening to them right now as they slept in the physician’s cottage. 

“Arthur,” Leon interrupted, obviously having been eager to speak for some time, “I too have a mark on my leg.  And for the past few weeks, it has been growing.”

“Can I see it?” Arthur breathed, filled with nervous excitement.  

Leon grinned as he stood and unhooked his belt.  When his legs were finally bare, Arthur saw a mark that was much smaller than his own but was in exactly the same place.  He could easily see that it could one day match the growing mark on his own body. 

This was it.  It was Leon. 

“Oh, Leon,” he whispered.  “It’s you.  You are the one I am meant to be with.”

Leon moved toward Arthur, momentarily forgetting that his trousers were around his ankles.  They both laughed nervously as he pulled them up and secured his belt.  

This time, Arthur moved toward his friend, arms extended, and Leon fitted himself into his embrace like he was born to be there.

“Arthur,” Leon whispered into his neck, “I have dreamed of this, but I never actually thought it would happen.”

Arthur smiled, turning his head to press his cheek against Leon’s curly hair. 

“I have wanted to be with you since we were children,” Leon continued.  “I can’t believe we get the chance to be – ”

Leon gasped, jumping out of Arthur’s embrace and clawing at his trousers just over his mark.

“Leon, what’s wrong?”

“It’s – it’s burning!” Leon gasped, grabbing his thigh.

Arthur helped him, as Leon was shaking too much to manage it on his own.  Together they managed to undo his belt and bare his skin. 

“No,” Arthur breathed, his heart sinking.

Leon’s mark was growing rapidly.  But instead of the gentle intersecting curves encircling Arthur’s thigh, the lines on Leon’s leg were forming jagged peaks that stretched to cover him almost from hip to knee. 

There was no way that their marks would ever match.    

 

* * *

 

Arthur jerked back into consciousness, his mind spinning with confusion.  What had happened?

Why hadn’t he found his soulmate?

Recklessly disobeying Gaius’ instructions, Arthur called out to the physician, who was seated on the earthen floor in front of the fire, near where the apprentice had been.

“I didn’t find anyone!  What does this mean?”

The glare in the physician’s eyes was murderous when he turned to face Arthur.  “It means you have no soulmate,” he said slowly, as if he were addressing a child.  “Now please leave my home.”

“But you were meant to help me find my soulmate!  I can’t return to Camelot alone!  What am I to tell – ”

“First,” the physician interrupted, nearly hissing, “I was not _meant_ to do anything.  I owe nothing to you or your kingdom.  And second, it is clear that you do not have a soulmate.  There is nothing that I can do about it.”

“But my father told me that this is the mark of the rightful king of Camelot and that I cannot rule without my soulmate!”

“That is true.  But I say again, there is nothing I can do about it.”

Arthur couldn’t do anything but stare as the physician gathered his cloak around him, stood, and strode to the door. 

“Be gone by the time I return, young Pendragon.”

As Arthur watched the door swing gently closed, he felt anger wash over him.  He wanted to throw something, to break all of the carefully labeled bottles on the shelves, to burn the old books into nothing but ash. 

Just as quickly, though, the anger was replaced with a fast-growing dread.  How could he return home and tell Uther that his son would never succeed him as king of Camelot? 

What did this mean for him?  He had been groomed his entire life to one day take on the crown; he knew nothing else.  Was he now destined to be just a knight in his father’s service?  What would happen when Uther was gone?  Could Arthur bear to serve a king who wasn’t his father?

It was too overwhelming to think about.  His world had been rocked by such a massive, sudden change that he was dizzy from it.  He had to fix this!

In desperation, he glanced around the cottage and saw the teapot that the apprentice had served him from earlier.  _Let there be some left_ , he prayed, holding his breath as he bent down to lift the teapot.

Yes!  There was some liquid remaining – not enough for a full cup, but more than a few swallows.  Before he could lose his nerve, Arthur drank the tea, careful to not spill a drop.  He had just a moment to register the fact that his knees were buckling before he was once again lost in a dream.

 

* * *

 

There was no fog, no slowly emerging Camelot.  There was simply nothing. 

The world was completely dark.  Completely silent.  He called out, but his voice did not even echo. 

He was truly alone. 

There was no one meant for him.

With nothing to do but wait, Arthur sat and finally allowed the tears of frustration to fall.  He had not cried since he was a small child, but he couldn’t help it.  Just that morning, he had believed that he would find the one person uniquely suited to him.  Now it appeared as though he was destined to be alone.

He recognized the slight thinning of the air around him that signaled the end of the dream.  Just as he was waking, bright lights – like shooting stars – flashed across his field of vision.  It probably didn’t mean anything, he thought.  It was most likely just caused by how tightly he was pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. 

 

* * *

 

He woke on the floor with tears on his cheeks.  Damn it all, why was this happening to him?  What had he ever done to deserve a life alone, or even worse – a life with someone, knowing all the while that that person was not meant to be with him?

Gradually, Arthur’s tears slowed and he regained control of his emotions.  He could feel the precise moment when all of his training took over and he began to view his situation through the eyes of a battlefield commander.  Instead of feeling sorry for himself, he began planning.

This couldn’t be the end.  He refused to let it be so.  He was a Pendragon, and Pendragons were nothing if not persistent.  He would find a way to fix this, find a soulmate, and become the king that he was meant to be. 

 

* * *

 

It was easy enough to keep the truth from his father and Gaius – Arthur just told them that the physician had indicated Arthur’s search would take more time than was normal.  Neither of them appeared to doubt Arthur’s claim, and both respected his wishes to not discuss the situation.

Arthur could still see the pride in Uther’s eyes when he spoke of stepping down and watching Arthur take his place on the throne.  And Arthur wanted that more than anything – to have his father stand with him as he took his first tentative steps as king – but he simply could not find anyone or anything that could help him. 

He discovered (while snooping through Gaius’ library) that there were no other physicians for him to visit.  Only one man at a time in all of Camelot was entrusted with the secret recipe for the tea. 

When Uther needed to send men to other kingdoms, Arthur always volunteered under the guise of learning more about the political maneuverings of Camelot’s enemies and allies.  Though he did pay attention to court politics, he spent most of his time discretely questioning anyone he thought might know about soulmates, soulmate marks, and mysterious teas.  What he discovered was disheartening: though there were rulers from other families who bore soulmate marks, people from other kingdoms all traveled deep into the forests of Camelot to meet the same physician that he had. 

The same physician who had told him that he would never find his match. 

For two full years, Arthur searched for another way to find his soulmate.  He crept through the castle’s library at night, desperately searching for a book that would help him find an answer.  He read the journals of his ancestors, trying to determine if anything like this had ever happened before. 

He wasn’t sleeping enough, and he had no real interest in eating.  It was Leon who led the knights’ workouts now, not him.  Every bit of Arthur’s energy was devoted to finding the one person that he needed to find in order to become king of Camelot.  Uther and Gaius were starting to question him, but he managed to convince them that he was simply suffering from a cold that had proved hard to shake.  Gaius insisted on providing a sleeping potion, which Arthur accepted but later discreetly disposed of. 

Their questions as to his behavior made him realize what a toll this search for answers was taking on his life.  He couldn’t remember the last time that he had laughed, or even smiled.  The search for his soulmate had caused him to distance himself from friends, to neglect his duties to Camelot, and to lie to its king. 

It had to stop.  Arthur had to return to his old life.  He needed to tell Uther the truth so that he could help search for someone (who wasn’t a Pendragon) that the elders would accept as king.

He was on his way to his father’s chambers when he bumped into Leon, who had, if he remembered correctly, been away for a few days. 

“Arthur!  Have you heard?”

Leon’s cheeks were flushed, and his face was split by the biggest smile Arthur had ever seen.  His happiness was infectious, and Arthur felt himself smile in return.  “Have I heard what?”

“I am to be married!”

“Leon, congratulations!  I am so happy for you,” he said, wrapping his best friend up in a tight hug.  “Who is the lucky lady?”

Leon took a step back and peered over his shoulder, as though he was making sure they were alone.  He leaned in close to Arthur’s ear and said, “I know that I am not supposed to talk about this, but you already know of it.  Arthur, I am marrying Princess Elena!” 

In one sickening instant, Arthur felt his stomach drop.  He knew exactly what Leon was going to say, and it took everything he had to not turn and run from him. 

“I am her soulmate.”       

That was the moment Arthur’s new resolve to just live his life disappeared.  It was more than just jealousy that Leon had found someone – what hurt Arthur the most was that Leon had unknowingly found the very thing that Arthur had been searching for ever since that day in the physician’s cottage, more than two years ago. 

He congratulated Leon once more and shook his hand, carefully schooling his face to show only support and happiness for his oldest friend.

He then excused himself, went to his room, and began to pack a bag.     

 

* * *

 

Arthur knew that there was no way he could remain in Camelot, content to exist as a mere knight when every bit of him yearned for the responsibility of his birthright.  He could never follow another man into battle without resenting him for taking his place.  He could never marry anyone now that he knew that the possibility of a perfect match existed. 

The thought of living in Camelot was unbearable, so he did the only thing he could think to do: he fled. 

He took with him the lightest of his armor, as well as food and clothing to last for a few weeks, and enough coin to allow him to buy more.  He was not sure where he was going, but he was certain that he could find a place to settle, far from anyone who would recognize him as the disgraced Prince of Camelot. 

He debated writing a letter to his father, explaining why he was leaving, but in the end decided that he couldn’t bear the shame of admitting his failure.  The short note he ultimately left in his father’s chambers simply stated that he was leaving and that he would not return. 

He left the castle late at night, easily avoiding the security patrols.  He had, after all, been the one who had created the guards’ schedules.

He chose a direction at random and began to walk, the large pack on his back a constant reminder that he was leaving behind everything he had ever known.  Sweat dripped from his brow and blisters formed on his heels, but he walked until he was exhausted.  Only when he could no longer put one foot in front of the other did he stop to rest. 

The monotony of the journey was a balm to his troubled mind.  As the terrain became increasingly difficult to navigate, he was able to think of nothing but the efficient movement of his body.  Whenever he came upon a small village, he would offer his services at woodcutting or building – anything that would exhaust him further and earn him some food in exchange for his help.

Physical exertion worked for a few weeks.  Soon, though, he couldn’t help but think about his situation.  It seemed bleaker by the day.  Every village he visited, every townsperson he spoke with, every castle he passed – he was constantly afraid that he would be recognized as Camelot’s runaway prince.    

Finally, he took to the woods.  He hacked his way through uncharted wilderness, slogging through hip-deep creeks and carefully skirting animals’ nests and dens.  He couldn’t explain why he had decided to set out into the forests – it was as though he felt drawn there.  Perhaps it would be better for him to live alone than to hide among others, to always be terrified of discovery.  Whatever the reason, he traveled farther and farther into the heart of the forest.

The rough terrain took a toll on his already exhausted body, and he stopped to rest under some tall trees at the edge of a clearing.  It was not spacious – there was only enough open space for four or five people – but it would be a good place to rest for the night.

Unfortunately, for the first time since he left Camelot, sleep did not come instantly.  In fact, he tossed and turned for what felt like hours before he gave up and decided to continue on his way.  He donned his armor yet again and began to pack away his bedroll.  As he stowed the rolled fabric in his pack, his knuckles glanced off a wooden object. 

“Oh,” he whispered, stunned.  He had forgotten that he had packed it.

For as long as he could remember, Arthur had kept a small wooden tucked into the false bottom of his wardrobe.  As he had packed to leave Camelot, some fit of sentimentality had caused him to tuck it into his pack.  He caressed the carved lid, already anticipating what he would find inside.  After a few moments, he slid open the lid’s catch and lifted it, immediately hit by the familiar odor of aged wood and candlewax.  The box’s contents would have looked like rubbish to anyone else, but for Arthur, each item held meaning: a sliver of wood from his first practice sword, a clump of dried flowers that Gwen had jokingly presented him on his last birthday, one of his mother’s earrings, and dozens of other tiny artifacts he had amassed over the last twenty years.

Until that point, Arthur had successfully managed to keep his emotions from overtaking his common sense.  He had realized that bemoaning his situation would get him nowhere and chose to instead focus on finding food, shelter, and work.  But now, presented with artifacts of the life he had once known, he found himself unable to hold back his feelings.  His eyes prickled with tears, and he felt something like a sob attempting to claw its way out of his throat. 

Had he made the wrong decision in leaving?  Should he have stayed, simply accepting that he would never rule?  Should he have resigned himself to the life of a common knight, marrying someone would never be his perfect match?  What would his father think that he –

At the thought of his father, doubt rolled over him like a fog, an almost physical sensation of dread that he had made a mistake and acted too rashly.  His stomach heaved, and he dropped to his hands and knees in the leaves.   

In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to feel his father’s cool hand pressed against the overheated skin of his neck, and to hear Uther whisper to him that everything was going to be all right, just as he had when Arthur was younger. 

Arthur had never felt more like a child, so it seemed fitting that his body acted of its own volition and broke into sobs.  He cried more than he could ever remember crying, quickly becoming hysterical to the point where he was sobbing more than he was breathing and his head pounded so fiercely that he feared he was actually going to die, alone in the forest with only trees to observe his final moments. 

It just – and he had avoided using this phrase for so long now, because he knew that it didn’t really help – it just _wasn’t fair_!  How could the universe do this to him?  He had lost everything he had ever known. 

He had even lost himself.

Gradually, the sobs turned into words.  “Why is this happening?” he shouted, his face close to the ground.  “I’ve always tried to be good and make my father proud of me!  All I ever wanted was to help keep Camelot safe and its people happy!”

He tried to take a deep breath, but he could not inhale past the tears clogging his nose and throat.  He used the little breath he had left to scream, giving voice to his rage and despair.  Realizing even as he did it how ridiculous he must look, he pounded the ground beneath him with his fist. 

“Why,” he yelled again, “Why?  What did I ever do to deserve this?”

A quiet voice interrupted his outburst. 

“You have done nothing wrong, Arthur.”

His first instinct was to kick out and sweep the intruder’s legs out from under him, but something made him stop.  For the first time in over a year, Arthur felt – he felt _happy._ Warmth spread through his body, emanating from the hand resting on his shoulder.       

Suddenly, he was able to breathe again.  His nose and lungs were clear, and the pounding in his head had disappeared.  He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and focused on the heat – something that he shouldn’t even be able to feel through his armor. 

It was extraordinarily difficult to move away from that one point of contact that was making him feel so safe and happy and _himself_ again, but he did, only because he had to find out just who it was that was making him feel this way.

The ability to breathe that he had so recently regained disappeared again as he lifted his head.  His eyes travelled up a man’s figure, from bare feet to calves and slender thighs to – no, he couldn’t possibly have –

Arthur scrambled back into a standing position, moving away from the man in the process.  He rubbed his eyes, realizing even as he did it that he was acting foolishly, in the hope that he was imagining things.  But when he opened them again, the man’s appearance hadn’t changed, except for the grin developing on his face. 

“Who are you?” Arthur whispered. 

The man standing in front of him, gloriously nude in the day’s first beams of sun, was like nothing he had ever seen.  His skin was pale, save for the glowing bands of color marking his calves, thighs, and arms.  His eyes, the bluest Arthur had ever seen, stood out in stark contrast to his thick, black hair. 

He was the most perfect man Arthur had ever seen. 

But as odd as it might have been to find a naked, delicately beautiful man with healing hands in the middle of the forest, what truly confused Arthur (and took his breath away) was what he saw spreading behind the man’s back – _wings_.  He had _wings_.  They were dark and massive, stretching up gracefully over his head before flowing out and down to end below his knees. 

“ _What_ are you?” he tried again.

“Can’t you tell?” the man asked, his voice much deeper than Arthur expected.  He took a hesitant step toward Arthur, his hand reaching toward Arthur’s face.  “May I?”

It was certainly not in Arthur’s nature to allow strangers to touch him so intimately, but, recalling the peace he had felt at the man’s touch, he nodded. 

When a warm hand brushed his cheek, Arthur’s world went black.

 

* * *

 

He opened his eyes, feeling as though no time had passed, and just barely refrained from shouting.  They were no longer deep in the forest; instead, they were in a small cottage.  Arthur had just enough time to take in the cottage’s wide bed, wooden table, and stone fireplace before he saw something that made him gasp.   

In a complete reversal from their earlier positions, the man was kneeling at Arthur’s feet, his wings pooling on the floor behind him.  

“What is happening?  Where are we?”  Arthur was beginning to panic. 

“Arthur.”  The man’s voice was gentle, but still surprisingly deep.  “Please let me explain.” 

Feeling slightly unsteady and unwilling to carry on a conversation with a naked man kneeling before him, Arthur moved to sit on the bed.  Then man continued to kneel. 

“My name is Merlin.  And I am – well, I am your soulmate.”

“You can’t be!” Arthur snarled, once again full of rage and bitterness.  “I don’t have one.”

Merlin sighed.  “Please,” he pleaded, “just listen.  And watch.  I can explain everything.”

Arthur crossed his arms against his chest, but the motion was not easy in his armor.  He shrugged, and began to remove the outermost layers.  Merlin appeared to take this as an indication that Arthur was willing to listen, and so continued to speak. 

“I am truly sorry.  I never imagined the grief that my decisions would cause you.  I have been lying to you since the beginning, and it has been for purely selfish reasons.  You _do_ have a soulmate, Arthur.”

“But the physician,” Arthur interrupted, confused.  “He said that there was no one for me.”

“I know.  And I am not proud of this, but – well, just watch.”

As Arthur looked on in stunned silence, the man’s facial features began to melt.  His brow thickened, his hair grew and became lighter, and deep wrinkles appeared. 

Merlin was the physician. 

And Merlin had magic.

Arthur had never fully understood his father’s deep hatred of magic and those who possessed it, but he couldn’t deny that it was frightening to realize he had been fooled so completely.    

“Then why – why did you pretend?”

Merlin sighed, his features slowly becoming his own again.  “I – Arthur, I was scared.  That’s why I did this.  But what I’m telling you now is the truth, and you must believe me.” 

He took a deep breath before continuing.  “My name is Merlin, and I am a sorcerer.  Probably the most powerful sorcerer that has ever lived, if the Druids are to be believed.  I have lived for centuries, watching over humans and helping the ones marked for greatness to achieve their destinies.  When I discovered that I had the ability to find soulmates for the chosen rulers of kingdoms, I offered my services as a ‘physician.’  There is no special tea – there is just me.”

Arthur was confused.  “Then why did you make me go through that?  And why did I have to drag my friends into this mess?”

“When I search for a soulmate, the first time that someone drinks the tea and falls asleep, I enter his dreams and search for those who have the potential to be his match.  I then ask that he bring those possible matches back to me, for I cannot truly determine which one is the soulmate without seeing how they interact with each other.”

“And,” he added with a grin, “I must admit that it can be amusing.  Your face when you discovered that Gwaine is in love with Percival – ”

He stopped speaking at once, abashed, when he saw Arthur’s scowl.  “Again, I am sorry.”

Merlin took a deep breath, as if readying himself for a major confession.  “When you dreamt for the first time, I saw a possibly connection with each of your three friends, but I felt a strange pull as well.  It was unlike anything I had ever experienced.  I felt drawn into your dreams in a way that I had never been before.”

“And,” he paused, looking steadily at the floor, “when you came back with your friends, I suddenly realized why I couldn’t see you with any of them.  It shocked me so much that I forgot to maintain my physician persona – ”

“When I woke up,” Arthur said, realization dawning on him.  “That wasn’t an apprentice.  It was you.” 

“Yes.  I’m sorry.  I thought that you were just another royal brat whose other half I was searching for.  Arthur, how could I have known?”

Merlin sounded close to tears.

Arthur, having finally removed all of his armor, moved back across the room to sit next to Merlin on the floor.  “How could you have known _what_ , Merlin?” he asked gently. 

“The reason that I couldn’t find anyone – the reason that I told you to get out – ”

He looked up at Arthur, his eyes bright with unshed tears.  “I am the one who was made for you.  I am your soulmate.”

Arthur’s heart was racing.  “Then why did you tell me that I don’t have one?  How could you let me go on for a year, thinking that there was nobody for me?”

“Arthur, I have lived for thousands of years.  There are humans that I have known and worked with, and even those I have admired, but the thought of being tied to a human was more than I could bear.  I was scared, so I ran.  I am so sorry.  Please, you must believe me.”

“Then what changed your mind?  Why did you decide to be with me?”

Merlin reached out and seized Arthur’s hand. 

Arthur hadn’t realized that he would be able to feel his soulmate’s emotions, but he knew in an instant that Merlin was telling the truth.  He felt Merlin’s initial rage at his discovery, his shame at his decision to lie to Arthur, and his anguish at seeing what their year apart had done to Arthur.  He sensed Merlin’s resolve to make things right and his fear that Arthur wouldn’t accept his apology. 

“In all these years, I have never once questioned my place in this world.  I have been content to just exist, aiding causes that I deem worthy.  But when I searched for myself, I found a bond like no other.  You and I are destined to be together.  I have seen us uniting the kingdoms of Albion and bringing about an era of peace and prosperity the likes of which none of us has even dared to imagine.”

Merlin continued, his voice low and steady as though trying not to shock Arthur too much.  “When I saw that – that you and I are destined to change the shape of our world, how could I not come back?  And when you consider the fact that you and I are literally perfect for each other – how could anyone say no to a life like that?”

“I – ”  

Arthur didn’t know what to say. 

Merlin squeezed his hand.  “Arthur, you can say no.  You must choose whether or not to accept our bond.  I just hope that you can forgive me.  Please, take as much time as you need to make a decision.” 

A hysterical giggle made its way out of Arthur’s mouth as he realized that in the span of less than an hour, he had gone from the depths of despair at the thought that he would be alone forever to the giddy rush of realization that, not only had he found his soulmate, but he and his soulmate were destined to change the world. 

“I don’t need time to think about it.”

Merlin looked crushed.  He released Arthur’s hand and scrambled to his feet, saying, “No, that’s fine.  I understand.  I’m going to leave now.  If you ever need any help, you can send a message to me here.  And again, I am so sorry, Arthur.” 

Merlin turned and was almost to the cottage’s door when Arthur began to laugh. 

“You idiot!” he managed to say between laughs.  “How could you think that I would say no?  You’ve offered me everything I could ever want.” 

In a flash, Merlin was back in front of Arthur, his arms outstretched.  Arthur stepped forward and into Merlin’s embrace, careful not to jostle Merlin’s wings.

“Do you mean it?” Merlin whispered, his face tucked into the curve of Arthur’s neck.

His laughter over, Arthur told him, “Of course.”

They stood there for minutes, doing nothing but breathing in each other’s embrace.  Arthur could feel Merlin’s smile pressed against his skin, and he himself was nearly giddy from happiness.  Soon, though, Arthur was reminded that he was holding a very naked man. 

“Oh,” Merlin whispered, and Arthur realized that Merlin was not only naked and hard, but was rolling unconsciously rolling his hips against Arthur’s.  Arthur tightened his grip on the muscles of Merlin’s back, drawing tiny moan from him.  At the sound, Arthur went from mildly interested to nearly overwhelmed with desire.     

“Are you…do you – ” Merlin panted.  “Do you want to finalize the bond?”

Arthur nodded, but he wasn’t sure that the motion registered against the tiny tremors running through Merlin’s body.  “What do we have to do?” 

Instead of answering, Merlin lifted his head to meet Arthur’s eyes. 

“This,” he said, and leaned in for a kiss. 

The second their lips touched, Arthur knew that he was completely unprepared for whatever was going to happen next.  He wouldn’t consider himself an expert at kissing, but he had kissed a few girls, and it had had never felt like this.  

It was more than just the press of lips against lips – each tiny movement of their mouths spread an ever-increasing heat through Arthur’s body.  When Arthur slid his tongue against Merlin’s, they both gasped into each other’s mouths, and not only from the growing intensity of the kiss.  Their kisses were accompanied by this strange thrumming _power_ that gathered within them like an oncoming storm. 

Merlin pulled back, and Arthur’s head cleared slightly.  “I didn’t think it would feel like this,” Arthur whispered. 

Merlin blushed, a gorgeous flush that started in his face and spread down his neck to his shoulders.   “I didn’t know what to expect.”       

“Ah, Merlin, have you done this before?”

Though he hadn’t thought it possible, Merlin’s blush deepened.  He looked anywhere but at Arthur as he said, “I have never once been interested in being intimate with any human.  I have lived for centuries, and there has never been anyone I wanted to be with until now.  Until you.”

Arthur tipped Merlin’s chin up so that their eyes met.  “I haven’t, either.  And, believe me, I have never wanted to be with anyone as much as I do you.”  He punctuated his words with a slow roll of his hips, grinding against Merlin.  Even through his trousers, the feeling of Merlin against him was delicious enough that he wanted nothing more than to slip off his own clothing and press Merlin down onto the bed. 

Perhaps mind-reading was one of Merlin’s many talents, or perhaps Arthur’s desire was evident, because Merlin seemed to understand.  His eyes flashed gold as he whispered something in a language Arthur had never heard, and, quicker than he could blink, Arthur’s clothing had disappeared and he was pressed skin to skin against Merlin. 

“I – oh, you’re so beautiful,” Merlin groaned, deftly sliding a hand between their bodies.  Arthur went weak-kneed at the touch of Merlin’s fingers to the thin skin of his inner thigh, a place no one had ever touched him before.  

Arthur caught Merlin’s wrist.  “Please, Merlin, I can’t even stand up.  Can we – ”

Once again seeming to understand Arthur despite his lack of explanation, Merlin grinned and walked backwards toward the bed, dragging Arthur with him.  He flopped down in a graceless heap, pulling Arthur on top of him.  His wings spread out beneath him, the dark feathers completely blocking out the bleached fabric covering the mattress. 

They both groaned at the slide of skin on skin before Arthur captured Merlin’s mouth again in a bruising kiss.  Arthur sought to gain his balance, and accidentally put his weight on his hands, crushing Merlin’s wings.  He quickly pulled back and started to apologize, but Merlin looked up at him, eyes wide, and begged, “ _Do that again_!”

Oh, the sight of Merlin spread out and begging was more arousing that anything Arthur had imagined existed.  He eagerly pressed down on the long feathers, nipping at Merlin’s neck as he did so.  It felt as though if he didn’t use up some of his excess energy, he would explode. 

Merlin had stopped talking completely, letting loose a constant flow of gasps and groans as Arthur combed his fingers through the feathers, pulling slightly.  It was as though he somehow knew exactly what Merlin wanted.  Merlin must have known Arthur’s deepest desires as well, for he lifted his upper body and leaned back on his elbows, forcing Arthur to pull back from the wings.  Arthur whimpered at the loss but nearly came undone when Merlin spoke.  “Come on, Arthur,” he challenged, “ _make me yours_.”

He couldn’t handle another second of teasing – in that moment, Arthur needed to find release more than he needed air to breathe.  He fell on Merlin and slid a thigh between his legs, gasping as he thrust into the soft crease of Merlin’s own thigh.  Merlin thrust back against him, bucking against Arthur as though he was trying to throw him from the bed. 

Arthur spared a moment to marvel at Merlin’s impressive strength before losing himself in the gorgeously smooth slide of their sweaty bodies.  There was no finesse involved; it was just the two of them rolling their hips against each other as Arthur sucked a dark mark onto Merlin’s neck, just to hear him moan again. 

The power was building, building to the point where Arthur felt as though it would actually kill him to stop.  They were approaching something monumental at breakneck speed, and the only thing they could do was hold on.

Heat spread across his thighs and forearms, and Arthur glanced down in amazement to see the black and gold designs blooming across his skin, marking him forever as Merlin’s.  The thought was enough to send him hurtling over the edge, and he clutched Merlin against him and screamed, the power running through him too overwhelming to do anything else.

In his last moments of consciousness, he heard an echoing scream from Merlin, half ecstasy and half fear that the magic was going to destroy them.    

 

* * *

 

Arthur woke slowly, his head spinning.  He was on his side, facing Merlin.  Merlin was still asleep, but his eyes were moving rapidly beneath his closed eyelids, as though he was close to waking.  Arthur took a moment to take stock of the new markings on his body: the bands on his thighs had thickened and formed definite patterns, and new marks wrapped around his forearms and biceps. 

Merlin mumbled something that might have been Arthur’s name, and Arthur grinned, still unable to believe that this gorgeous creature lying next to him was his soulmate.  He glanced around the room, everything illuminated by the setting sun, and chuckled as he saw the teapot and cups that Merlin had used to serve him his sleep-inducing tea.  He hadn’t realized that this cottage was the same one that he had spent so many hours asleep in. 

His laugh, nothing more than a brief puff of air, woke Merlin, who grinned and pressed a quick kiss to his lips. 

Once again, Arthur was hit by emotions so strong that he felt sure he wouldn’t be able to breathe under the weight of them.  Heat spread from their lips through their bodies, accompanied by a crackle of something like lightning as, with a _snap_ , their bond was completed.  In that glorious moment, Arthur finally understood what it was to be one half of a whole.  He had gone his entire life without realizing that anything was missing, but now that Merlin had slotted into the emptiness within him, he couldn’t imagine living any other way.    

Merlin laughed, a joyous bark of noise that Arthur couldn’t help but return. 

“I can’t believe this actually happened,” Merlin said.  “I never knew I would feel so – ”

“Complete?” Arthur interrupted. 

“Yes, exactly.”  Merlin grinned and slid an arm around Arthur’s back.  Arthur mimicked the motion, but accidentally grazed Merlin’s wing. 

Moving with blinding speed, Merlin grabbed Arthur’s hand and wrapped his wing around their bodies, cocooning them in a soft blanket of feathers. 

“If you do that again, I won’t be able to stop myself from – ”

“Why would you want to stop?”

Merlin sighed.  “Well, I don’t really _want_ to stop, but we cannot lounge about all evening.  We must return to Camelot and share your news.”

He hadn’t even thought of that.  For a moment, Arthur felt like weeping with joy as he realized that his time on the run was over. 

He was going home. 

Merlin leaned in tentatively for another kiss, and seemed relieved that there was no spark of power – it was nothing more than a kiss.  “If we hurry, I can have us in Camelot by morning.”

Arthur pressed his forehead to Merlin’s, overwhelmed yet again.  “Thank you,” he whispered.  “Thank you for coming back to me.”

As they untangled themselves from each other, Arthur caught sight of Merlin’s back for the first time.  It was covered in a huge marking: a crest that vaguely resembled a dragon.  He twisted his head and neck to see his own back, but it remained unmarked. 

“The full set of marks will take time to develop,” Merlin told him, having seen Arthur’s awkward attempt to check himself for new marks.  “In fact, mine have only been this dark for about thirty years.  And they’ve only been glowing for about twenty.  For…oh,” he inhaled, surprised, “it must have been for as long as you’ve been alive.”

Arthur couldn’t help but kiss him again. 

They both dressed, Arthur unhappy to see Merlin cover himself in clothing but realizing that it was a necessity for life in Camelot.  Arthur packed his bag, abandoning most of his dirty clothing and gear in the cottage.  When they were finally ready to leave, Merlin spent several moments in the clearing outside, just staring at the cottage. 

“Is everything all right?” Arthur asked.

“Yes.  Most certainly.  I just…this is the place where I first met you.  And the place where we became bonded.  Until now, I have never considered any place home, but I suddenly find myself unwilling to leave.”

Arthur moved to stand in front of his soulmate and ran a soothing hand down the edge of one of Merlin’s wings.  “Wherever we are together, _that_ is our home.”

Merlin’s eyes were damp when he looked up.  “Thank you,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around Arthur.  

They stood in silence for a few moments, Arthur’s hands gentle on Merlin’s wings.  He could have stood there forever, still so happy to have found his soulmate, but he was struck with a burning question. 

“Merlin!  Will I grow wings?”

“I’m not sure.”  Merlin laughed and pressed a kiss to the top of Arthur’s head. 

“Come along, Arthur.  We have a destiny to fulfill.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Once again, if you enjoyed the art as much as I did, please visit the masterposts on [AO3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1410700) or [LJ](http://mssdare.livejournal.com/5235.html) to let **mssdare** know just how beautiful these pieces are.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Art for "Sur ma peau" by Robespierre](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1410700) by [mssdare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssdare/pseuds/mssdare)




End file.
